Prologue
by soumanyon
Summary: Companion fic to Epilogue: The prologue of Moon Child, as seen by a sarcastic, slightly insane, suicidal vampire with a twisted and slightly disturbing sense of humor. Kei POV


Disclaimer: Moon Child isn't mine. It belongs to, among others, an ex-porn director and a media/general manwhore. ...XD

Dedicated to my best friend, who once again ended up dragging me kicking and screaming into something I was hell-bent against…and ended up loving. Where would I be without you? (Most likely with a pure and innocent mind that doesn't pine 24/7 for unattainable Jrock icons…damn you.)

**PROLOGUE**

Sometimes it seems like life is one big irony. When you least expect it, it knocks you clear off your feet. So it struck me that this was one of those moments. When it hits, it hurts, and realization hurt plenty when I stumbled over a loose bit of rock and fell flat on my face.

I considered staying there and going by the timeless piece of advice of 'drop dead.' It was an appealing option, until I considered how pathetic it would seem after my many long years of life to simply die in a grimy back alley somewhere in Mallepa some hours before dawn.

I had already picked myself up and even made an attempt at dusting myself off when I realized that I really, honest to God, didn't give a flying fuck where I died so long as I did. Soon.

Seeing as how I was already standing, I kept going, much to the disgust of sniffing passersby who thought themselves so much better than me as they hurried past on their way to their quiet suburban homes. Ignore the lazy, drunk bum. Except I wasn't a bum and I was completely sober. The lazy part might have a small ring of truth to it, but it's not harming anyone but myself, so what should they care?

I conveniently forgot that I used to be one of them as I continued with my bitter thoughts. I blame it on my pride, it forces me to do things that I don't necessarily want to do, such as walking. It refused to let me die just now. Damn pride doesn't know what's good for it.

When pride dissipated enough to allow me to look around at my surroundings, I realized that the place I stopped was almost exactly like the alley I had fallen in earlier, except bigger. Still grimy, ground scattered with bits of broken glass, crumbled brick, and various other trash. What the hell was the point of dragging myself all the way here, then?

With the loss of whatever little had been driving me, I finally slumped down at a broken wall (ah, the source of the crumbled brick) with ambition completely drained. Ambition to live had been long gone but now even ambition to _live_ is completely gone.

There is a difference, and not just in my own clouded, half-starved mind. Living constitutes making an effort at success, an effort at giving your life meaning while _living _is merely the act of existence on this earth, something that I was about ready to give up on. Life had been too long and I was tired, I was more than ready to end it all; as soon as the sun rose.

But the sun decided not to give me what I wanted, of course, so I waited impatiently for it to rise and brighten the world. That's another one of those ironies. The sun brightens the world, but it makes the shadows comparably darker. At least without it, shadow is equally dispersed. But the sun clearly illuminates the darkness lingering in small pathetic corners surrounded by light.

I'm getting profound in my old age, it must be a deathbed rant as I try to inject the tiniest bit of meaning into my waste of a life. It doesn't work, though, I guess because I don't even have a bed to die on. And, I suppose, because there's no one on whom I can impart my pearls of wisdom.

I dozed for a few hours, I suppose, because when I woke, I noticed the rich blue sky, no longer the inky black of night. The sun wasn't completely up yet, but it wouldn't take long. That's when I realized what woke me up. The second touch on my wrist jerked me awake completely. I haven't felt warm flesh for so long now.

My half-lidded eyes searched out the boy in front of me who had apparently tried to liberate me of my watch. Wait a few minutes, kid, and then you can take whatever you want. But don't rob me of my dignity just yet.

I almost snored, but I didn't for fear of scaring away this kid. Dignity is a joke. I lost it a long time ago, before I even lost my humanity.

The kid only stared at me, despite how much I must have scaring him, especially when a tiny ray of sunlight struck the back of my hand, which began to smoke. I couldn't help the wince as I felt my hand drying, the skin crisping and cracking. It hurt so much more than I expected it to. I wondered how Luka could bear it. But for once, the pain didn't bring me to tears.

I felt a little pride in the fact that I wasn't a crybaby anymore. Or maybe it was because I welcomed this pain, I wanted to die. But despite my death wish, I felt a tiny bit of decency creep back into my shriveled little black heart. I didn't want this kid to see me burn. It looked as if he already had a hard enough life, without being introduced to the reality of undead predators. He didn't look like the type to have a mommy or daddy to comfort him after a nightmare.

"Are you okay?" he asked me in Mandarin, not my best language. The hell with it.

"No." I reply in Japanese, and his already impossibly large eyes widen a little more. Obviously he didn't expect to encounter another Japanese speaking person. But really, he shouldn't have been surprised. At least half the street people in this damned city were Japanese.

During our staring contest, the sun steadily rose and the hand that I'd yanked out of the light when I decided to do my good deed of the day began to burn again. Twice in the same spot, maybe I'll get a scar.

Finally, with a sigh, I decided to screw it and be apathetic. I dozed off, the sorry excuse for a conversation having stretched me beyond my limits. I guess not eating for an indefinite amount of time will do that to you. With my surprisingly quick slide into unconsciousness, I guess my body decided to give up too, because my hand suddenly burst into flame as if the beam of morning light was too much for it.

The boy jumped back with a yell, finally reacting normally. With a fond smile, my eyes slipped closed and my body went slack as I fainted.

Something wet nudging at my lips. Something wet and disgusting.

Moaning my annoyance at that wet stuff being shoved clumsily in my mouth, I tried to turn my head aside to avoid that metallic tasting spoon. Then again, the metallic taste was by far the best out of the medley of smells. It even reminded me a little of blood. On the other hand, I had no idea what the slop I was eating was.

My eyes slitted open even though they felt gummy and sticky. How long had I been out?

A fuzzy shape was in front of me and a smaller fuzz waved in front of my face. I didn't need to see it to know what was heading towards my mouth again, I could smell it fine.

"No," I said, but it came out whispery and cut off, I had had more than enough of that gruel, or whatever the hell it was.

The fuzzes shifted until I felt the chipped lip of a ceramic cup pressed to my lips. Tasting it, I realized it was just water, albeit with enough unknown contaminants to qualify it as a new type of soda, but water nonetheless.

I slurped eagerly and I have to admit that while half ended up whetting my dry throat, the other half dripped down my chin, into my scraggly long hair, and down under the stringy rags of my shirt to run down my chest in warm trails, even though the water was cold enough. I guess I was still a vampire, my body was as cold as a corpse. But then why was I still here, why hadn't the sunlight killed me?

The water cleared my head enough that I recognized the giant fuzz in front of me to be the boy that had found me on my deathbed. Ah, I guess he had saved me. Somehow. And for some unknown reason.

Suddenly he whipped his little head to the side, revealing his oh so tender neck. No. Look away. No! I raged at myself. Damn it, I would die before I killed any more innocents.

Oh look, a scrap of dignity and pride. How'd those get here? As soon as I realized I possessed them, they were swept away under the rug. Freak out at the smallest hint of blood, why don't I?

Before I knew what he was doing, the kid had pressed the cup of water into my hands and ran behind the wall I was now leaning against. But this was an improvement over my last wall, it wasn't nearly as broken, or short.

So I curled my fingers around the cup, but I doubt that with how dizzy I felt, I'd actually be able to bring it to my lips without spilling most of the water inside, and that pretty much defeats the purpose of trying. I decided to doze until the nice boy came back and fed me the water.

Just when I was getting settled amidst my bricks and mortar dust, a gun shot rattled me out of my daze. What the hell! Some other kid, not my savior, ran past. A short while later, my kid stumbles past, slowly only to cast a fearful look behind him. Even with how distorted my mind has become, I couldn't mistake it for fear of me, so naturally I assume it's something or someone behind my wall.

My kid runs away, screaming for a 'Toshi', whatever that is.

Then, the sharp, salty, slightly metallic scent of blood suddenly flooded into me through my nose and mouth almost overwhelming me in its intensity. My eyes rolled back and my breathing quickened into animalistic pants. There was no mistaking, it was blood, and lots of it; fresh, hot, rich, thick blood.

I thought that I was almost at my end, but I guess vampiric strength has reserves and I stood up, albeit wobbly on my legs. But as soon as I got up, the dark side of my subconscious takes over and I only had enough control over it to force it to skip over the kid on the ground, whose blood is already spilling into the dirt, in favor of the blood still sealed under the unopened skin of the man smirking and waving a gun at me. Stupid man.

Before he realized that I'd even moved, I landed on him, knocking the gun out of his hand. Yanking his head back by his hair, faintly noting the terrified look on his face at the terrible strength of the pale, slender-looking youth, I opened my mouth, felt my canines automatically extend into razor sharp points, and bent over his neck, easily tearing the flaccid skin there.

Hunger led me to be careless and I'm afraid I made the wound much larger than it needed to be. Blood rushed out of the torn flesh, pumped by a dying heart desperately trying to pump the diminishing amount faster and faster to keep up with the demands of the body, unknowingly and ironically pushing the organism towards death faster.

The blood welled in my mouth, spilling out when I couldn't swallow quickly enough.

It was ecstasy, a hundred times better than I'd remembered. How can memories compare to the sensation of that velvety liquid, unlike any other, running over the tongue, sliding down the throat.

As the man's blood filled me, my mind became sharper and in my vision, lines became crisper, like the boy standing in front of me. I didn't even notice that I'd looked up.

All the hot blood that I'd just swallowed suddenly freezes in my body.

"Aren't you afraid?" I ask him curiously, fevered eyes intently focused on the strange boy in front of me. Slowly, he began to shake his head.

I arched an eyebrow at his reply. Unconsciously, my carefully constructed look of mild surprise was changed into real astonishment as he began to smile, then grin at me.

I bow my head, chuckling to myself and release the cooling body that I'd fed adequately from. I shake my head slightly in realization.

This boy was absolutely insane.

He hears my chuckles as they crescendo and starts to laugh along with me. Our laughs melt together in a harmonizing chorus the likes of which I haven't heard for so many decades. Luka never laughed, those last decades of his life, I realize. I hadn't even noticed it before his death, I'd just gotten used to solemnity every day. I'd forgotten how big a relief it was sometimes to just laugh.

I decide then and there that this boy was something special. More than likely, he was at least mildly insane, but who was I to judge the insanity of others? It would be a new beginning. And why not? It wasn't as if I had anything better to do with my screwed up life. A rebirth, of sorts.

And then I begin laugh even harder, having realized something that I found hilarious. The kid laughed along with me, just for the hell of it. We probably seemed insane, to any distraught watchers, but I didn't care. It was the ultimate irony.

Happy birthday to me.


End file.
